


Genderbent in Branson

by Tentaculiferous



Series: PMS!Dean [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Blood, Country Music, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Humor, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Menstruation, Mpreg, PMS, Pain, Sibling Incest, Spells & Enchantments, Tentacle Monsters, Unrequited Wincest, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are heading through Missouri when Dean once again changes into a woman, right in time for PMS to hit. And here he'd been hoping that spell had had a one-time only effect...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Branson

One month later, the agony began again. Dean could feel the dull twisting pangs in his lower abdomen begin. It was starting. Again. It had only been three weeks since the last one! He hadn't been sure, hadn't wanted to believe that it could happen again so soon, even when yesterday he had woken up as a woman once again. 

What sort of sadistic person made a potion that only turned someone into a woman one week of the month? And what sort of sick person put that potion into a perfectly innocent looking bottle of Jack Daniels? 

“It's starting again, Sammy. We're pulling over at the next town.” Dean said, eyes grimly concentrated on the road in front of him, trying to ignore the aching in his knees, the aching in his breasts, even the aching in his back. 

Sam didn't say a word. He had learned the hard way that it was safest to say as little as possible and bring as little attention to yourself when there was a wrathful, PMSing Dean next to you. He supposed there was some good in the situation; it was perfect training if he ever did settle down and get married. Though the appeal of women was rapidly declining in his eyes, as he spent more and more time in the company of one beautiful, petite, swearing, womanizing gender-flipped brother of his. 

Soon, heading down Highway 76, Dean bitching over the loopy rollarcoster roads (they didn't call the Missouri hills the Ozark Mountains for nothing) they saw the sign for Branson. It was a real relief to Sam. He hadn't been sure this highway would ever lead to a town of a decent enough size to have a motel. A slight smile even began to touch his face as stores and businesses, billboards, began to once again pop up on the roadside in their side.

A slight smile, a slight hint of optimism, that was swiftly and brutally killed when they hit the Strip. Instant traffic stop. They crawled along at a pace slower than walking, trapped in the Impala with only cheap tourist traps and, outside of a theatre advertising a country music show (this SO wasn't Dean's kind of place) a dancing Elvis impersonator. He was very obnoxiously close to the Impala, waving his sign back and forth and shaking his booty. As the intensity of Dean's swears increased to near maximum level, Sam could only pray that a hotel would appear soon and be grateful, for the Elvis's own sake, that the man wasn't on Dean's side of the car, so there was no risk of him rolling down the window and punching the guy.

Of course, at this rate of movement, Dean could very well get out of the car and go over and beat the guy down without so much as getting a honk of protest from the other drivers. 

Soon, though it seemed like hours to Sam, a two-story blue motel appeared in their sights, ensuring that “Cute PMSing Woman Beats Elvis to Death” wasn't a headline that would be appearing in the local papers any time. Sam pulled in. He wouldn't have cared if it was the ritziest hotel in the area, or the skankiest, most flea-ridden dump in the state. It turned out to be the sort of establishment they usually frequented, cheap but not disgusting. 

He let Dean stay in the car while he did the checking in. Soon enough, they were in their room. Another prison for Sam, trapped with a wrathful, bitchy Dean, who immediately flopped down on the nearest bed and commandeered the remote. 

“Go get beer.” 

Sam did so, thanking the obstinate 76 traffic that would make a beer-and-snacks run take hours.

* * *

Dean rolled around on the cheap motel bed, twisting and writhing, trying to contort his changed body into some position that would alleviate the pain, that wouldn't make him grit his teeth to keep from cursing God and every man on Earth. 

No Midol was touching this sucker, not this time. He'd taken a double dose for good measure. He wasn't sure it had even dulled the pain at all. 

Sam could only watch on with worried eyes. None of his girlfriends had ever had particularly bad cramps, except Ruby's, which apparently had been even worse than Dean's were, being what had necessitated her slide into witchcraft in the first place. (If you thought Midol and Aleve were ineffective against cramps, try having nothing but willow bark tea and guano). 

Sam was refusing his request to go and find some OxyContin..

“It's called hillbilly heroin, after all, and they have everything else hillbilly here.”

“You shouldn't use any more painkillers, Dean. The way the spell operates, Garth thinks it increases the intensity of the pain in proportion to any chemicals, herbs, or even alcohol you use to get through it. 

“Damn it Sam, find me a way through this!” 

“Why are you rolling around so much? How does that help?” Sam asked.

“It's better than sitting around doing nothing!” 

Sam, stung at those words, silently headed out the door. 

The parking lot was sunny, and full of families and old peope heading off to various tourist traps, or coming in from them. Nonetheless, they were in the Bible Belt. Sam felt he could get away with praying in a parking lot, despite all the company. 

Getting on his knees, he rested his forehead against the Impala and adopted a submissive, humble expression. Hands clasped together, he began.

“Dear Castiel... it's me, Sam. I'm at my wits end. Dean is in a lot of pain. Please help.” 

Castiel did not disappoint.Sam barely heard the soft rustle of wings before he felt the hand on his shoulder. He looked up. 

Cas was there, trenchcoat, determined expression, and Dean on his mind. Nothing new there. 

“Where is he?” 

Sam pointed to the motel room that currently sequestered his brother. Castiel headed that way. Sam wasn't sure if he should follow... he really did not want to follow. Surely the buck had been successfully passed here? Sam clambered into the Impala, deciding country music couldn't really be that bad at all, and headed out to see Branson's delights. He'd get Dean a T-shirt to make up for it.

Inside the motel room, Castiel looked down on Dean, who had given up trying to find any alleviating position, and was instead simply lying back drinking a beer, and saying some very naughty and pessimistic things about God and everything else in the universe. 

“Dean.” Castiel said, getting his attention.

He looked up. 

It was funny, but Dean didn't really look all that different as a woman. Maybe it was because Castiel could see more than simply the meat shell that humans did, or maybe it was just because Dean would always look like Dean to him, no matter what body he was in. Whether smiling or pained, relieved or angry, each look was unmistakeably Dean's. He could have recognized Dean as a cat. As it was, Dean's hair was still short and spiky, he still wore men's jeans and a plain white t-shirt (which very much showed that Dean hadn't adopted a bra, that most feminine of clothing articles. Dean made a rather voluptuous lady.) His eyes were slightly larger and his jaw softer. 

But although he was probably over half a foot shorter than usual, that was one difference that Castiel did not note. All humans seemed so impossibly tiny to him. 

“Can you help me, Cas?” Dean asked him. His voice was soft, higher-pitched than usual but Castiel knew him well enough to hear the husk of pain in it. 

“I couldn't not help you.” Castiel answered honestly. 

He reached out his hand for Dean, and reached for that power which seemed to feel so different these days, and poured that power into Dean. He could feel the wrongness of the spell over Dean, the negative and twisted intent over it, designed to give men only the experience of the most painful parts of being female. He did not think Dean would be pleased to hear that he could have gotten pregnant as well. 

And still the spell resisted. He was not as strong as he had been before. Still, he loathed this spell. It offended him just to see it in action. Finally, it was destroyed. 

And when it went down, he did as well. 

“Cas? CAS!” Dean grabbed for him, pulling him up and rolling him onto his back on the bed next to him. 

Cas felt so tired he could barely manage to open his eyes to look up at Dean. He did, briefly, relieved to see that Dean was back to his normal form. 

“I'm fine Dean. That just... took a lot out of me.” he said. 

Dean, cheerful once again now that he was pain-free and in his regular, lady-killing bod, grinned and gave him a hearty slap on the back, the intensity of it matching his gratitude to Cas. It of course, knocked the wind out of the exhausted angel. 

“Thanks... Dean.” he gasped out. 

“Hey... you know Sam's gonna be so scared he'll be out there for hours.” Dean said, grinning. 

He put his arm around Castiel's shoulders. 

“What a shame. Now that I won't get to try out your female form.” Castiel said, wryly. 

Dean instantly lost his grin. “Hey, that's not funny. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass a female body is?”


	2. In Which Sam Is Put on the Sex-Offender List

It didn't take long for Castiel to recharge enough angel power to go. A few hours of lying in bed snuggling with Dean, and then he was gone, insisting it would be selfish to stay. 

Sam was surprised that Dean didn't seem more bummed, but Dean just seemed to be happy to be back in his old, male body once again. Even Cas leaving couldn't get him down on this day. 

There wasn't much to do in a town that was geared toward family fun and country music, but they were going to make the best of it. At least Branson was full of tons and tons of restaurants, none of which served particularly healthy food. 

Dean was shirtless, practically strutting around the room, flexing his muscles and giving himself cheeky, obnoxiously adoring grins in the large mirrors that hung on the wall, while Sam was looking through restaurant reviews on the laptop and contemplating turning the webcam on for later blackmail material. 

“No, no, NO!”

Sam glanced up guiltily, assuming Dean had spotted him looking at one of the local sushi places.

He did a double-take when he was presented with two strawberry-red nipples staring back at him about a foot from his face. Followed the nipples back up two very fine large breasts and up to his brother's disgusted, pissed, feminized face. 

“Damnit, again? I can't take much more of this.” Dean groaned and fell back on the bed. The boobs bounced with him. 

Sam winced. “Could you please cover yourself up?”

“I'm in a lot of pain, Sammy.” Dean replied, sitting up and glaring. “Is that all you think about? Sheesh.” 

Nonetheless, he picked his blue-and-white flannel shirt up off the nightstand where he'd oh-so enthusiastically tossed it earlier, and put it on. Sam facepalmed when the buttons still gaped across the chest. He could not get a break. He threw Dean a plain white undershirt from the suitcase lying open on his still made bed. 

While Dean was putting that on (and Sam was carefully looking away, eyes unfortunately drawn like magnets to his brother's slim naked back) Sam said “I thought Cas fixed it.” 

“Yeah, well I thought so too.” Dean said.

“Do you think he just didn't have enough juice, or...?” 

“I don't know. And right now, I really don't care. I'm a freakin' girl again.” 

He reached down and touched his thigh, where a dark spot was growing. His hand came away bloody. “And a bleeding one at that.” he said, and headed into the bathroom.  
Emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, he said with no little determination, “And find a way to get rid of cramps without using drugs. There has to be a way. Yoga, or something.” he threw himself on the bed, groaning. 

Sam quickly, eagerly got to work scouring the internet. 

A minutes later, he reported his findings.

“Omega-3 fatty acids are supposed to help.” 

“Freakin' fish? That's supposed to help this?

Sam continued looking.

“There ARE yoga poses that are supposed to help.”

“I was just kidding, Sam.”

“No, some girls say this really works.”

“FINE. Anything, damn it.” 

After spending an hour hustling their poor bodies into various supposedly-alleviating poses, all that came of it was the knowledge that Dean really wasn't that flexible (although Dean thought Sam had probably been sneaking yoga work-outs, because he was suspiciously good at it), much cursing of the yoga industry (except for that instructor in Cicero. He was willing to bet if he drove up there, she could show him some poses that would put him just right. Oh yeah.) 

“Okay, now that I've made myself into one very painful pretzel, can you find me something that actually works?” Dean asked. 

Sam headed back to the computer, to begin his searching again. 

“Acupuncture?” Sam asked.

“No.” then, reconsidering “Well, maybe. But it's probably another couple hundred miles to the nearest acupuncturist.” 

Several minutes later... 

“Huh.”

“Huh? Huh, what?” Dean asked.

“Well... this says that orgasms can help.”

“You're shitting me.” Dean said, looking amused.

“Nope. And some of these women swear by it. They say that less than a minute after orgasm, the cramps go away completely, even intense ones.” 

“Let's try it.” Dean said, never turned off by sex as a solution. 

“Are you sure Dean? I mean, we're brothers...”

“What? I didn't mean us, Jesus. You've been reading too much V.C Andrews. I mean me and whatever lucky lady isn't shy about another girl riding the cotton pony.” 

Sam made a face. 

“Hey, it's a natural, beautiful lady-thing. When two girls get together to help each other through the agonies of menstruation.”

“Sounds like a plot from a bad porno.”

“It is!” 

Dean started getting ready for a night of seduction. This mostly consisted of putting on a clean pair of pants. 

“Oh, but only one problem Romeo—or should that be Juliet?--where are you going to find a lesbian one-night stand in Branson of all places?”

“Sam, lesbian hookups happen in even the most backwater, redneck hellholes.” 

“Or so you like to imagine.” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking amused.

Dean finished gelling his hair and was ready. 

“I'll just ask the front desk clerk.” he said smugly, and was out the door.

* * *

The front-desk clerk, despite not being all that fluent in English, nonetheless knew exactly where a girl could go to get loaded and laid in Branson. It was her job to know, after all. 

And so Dean headed off into the night, perky boobs pointing the way to Club Branson.

* * *

Sam was asleep when Dean arrived back, cute girl in tow. She was a shy-looking brunette in cowboy boots and a denim mini-skirt. 

“Who's the guy?” she was asking, as Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

No, he was actually seeing a girl. Dean was officially fucking magic with the ladies. 

“Oh don't mind him. That's just my brother. Sam, this is Alice.”

The girl—Alice—gave him a funny look. “That's weird. I'm not into anything weird.”

'Oh, but you'll have sex with this random girl you just met who's on her period.' Sam thought sarcastically. 

“He's going to have to leave for the night.” she insisted.

“Hey, sure. Get lost, Sam.” Dean said, without a thought. He tossed him the keys to the Impala. 

Sam deftly caught them and headed for the door. He scooped his shoes up in one arm and slammed the door behind him. 

He was not happy at being woken up at midnight and kicked out of his motel room. Sure, maybe it was necessary. He couldn't expect Dean to suffer the night through with cramps, and it wasn't like he wanted to try snoozing in the same room his brother was making it with another chick, but still... 

The Impala, as big and luxurious as it's backseat was, was just not at all comfortable for someone of his height. He fluffed the tiny travel pillow beneath his head and settled down to try to make his mind go into sleep once more.

It wasn't easy. Especially since... his brother and Alice were being rather noisy. There were a lot of shrill giggles (which he sincerely hoped all belonged to Alice's) as well as the usual banging, moaning, and disturbingly enough, cries of “Denice”, which sent an odd thrill through his body. 

“Not getting aroused by my brother having sex, nope, not at all.” Sam chanted mentally. 

The spirit, now that was willing to believe that, but the body had other ideas. He was left dealing with a raging hard-on that was quickly approaching the point of no return, climax or blue balls, take your pick. He could use a cold shower. If only Dean and Alice would finish up, soon.

But of course, they did not. And it was so not an appropriate problem to pray to Castiel to for assistance. Any, er, assistance he took from Castiel and he knew there would be nowhere on Earth he could hide from his brother's wrath. 

Nope, it was just him and the unmovable images in his head, of his brother's slim, curvy new body, changed but with the same freckles, tan lines, and scars as he had always had. That body, bouncing around with the extremely nice body of the cowgirl-attired Alice, which he had seen all too much of for his own good, the skinny, soft body of a girl who had certainly never worked on a ranch or farm in her life, but sure looked good in the get-up of one. 

Too bad his body wasn't in there.

Screw this, he wanted to sleep. Sam quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. The parking lot was dark, and as far the oh-so-sacred interior of the Impala, well, Dean had already violated that holiness with Anna, and god knew how many other girls. 

Sam took his cock in hand and began to get down to the business of getting off as quickly as possible. Maybe it was weird to think of your brother and jerk off. Maybe, maybe. Sam didn't give a damn. It felt insanely good, regardless of it's moral dubiousness. 

Sam was just reaching the glorious finish when the flashing red-and-blue lights made his eyes pop open, right in time to see the burly country cop who was tapping on the Impala window with his flashlight. 

“Oh shi-” 

Ironically, it was simultaneous release for both the brothers. Just as Sam was being hustled into the back of the police-cruiser, the miracle disappearing of the cramps occurred for Dean. Truly his face was joyous to behold in it's peace.

The lights outside, however, had drawn Alice to the window. 

“Hey, isn't that your brother getting arrested?” she asked.

* * *

It was the most embarrassing bailing-out Sam had ever experienced. He instantly declared the night's events off-limits, completely off-limits. But he knew Dean would never let him live it down. 

When they headed away from Branson, to continue searching for a cure, Sam had never felt so relieved to see the ass-end of a town. He vowed to never go back to that country-music hellhole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know why I'm continuing this story -_-


	3. The Dismal Little River Town

It was beautiful heading down Great River Road to their next destination, Alton, Illinois. The sunset was going down in an amazing crescendo of pollution-fueled neon colors. Factories billowed surprisingly pretty smoke from across the river, which Dean was watching very closely, considering how easy it would be to miss a sharp, unexpected turn and get to experience the river's water up close and personal. Because Dean was watching the road so closely, he hadn't noticed that Sam was watching him very closely, to the extent that Sam hadn't realized they'd even left Missouri. He didn't notice the factories, the river, the sunset, or the old rock tune on the radio. 

Sam had eyes only for Dean. 

Dean, who, in an effort to beat the heavy heat and unbelievable humidity, had shed down to a plain old white men's undershirt, and a raggedy pair of boxers. This was not a particularly note-worthy thing, or at least, it hadn't been in the many years they had spent together. 

It was different in that the well-muscled, lean, and tan body of Dean's that did absolutely nothing for Sam was gone. In it's place was a body that was driving Sam crazy. That beautiful body, soft and small and female, was what was driving them to Alton, in an attempt to extinguish that body's existence forever. 

It was a crime to get rid of that body. Sam loved it, even with the incredibly masculine touch Dean lent to an otherwise perfectly girly body. Dean wouldn't shave its pits, or its legs. Fine light brown hair was revealed every time he raised up his arm to wipe sweat from his brow. He kept his legs sprawled in an ungainly, unfeminine position that even most bold women would automatically avoid. 

It was bizarrely hot. 

They weren't unfamiliar with Alton; having been there not once but twice to hunt down rogue piasas who were preying on local humans and pets, as well as having to deal with the city's notably heavy ghost population. 

It was here that they had teamed up with one of the local witches, a serious spell-buff on all things fertility and female, to find a way to kill the piasa that had been preying on her coven. Gunfire didn't work on the damn things, but lore indicated poisoned freakin' _arrows_ did. The real trouble had been finding the poison that worked; that wasn't mentioned in any of the historical accounts of piasas, and trying the five most common deadly poisons with a little salt and holy water had resulted in Sam being grabbed by the piasa and carried up to the air, and dropped from 30 feet. They were lucky the thing had just ate, so it wasn't interested in a Sammy burger. 

It was to her house they were headed. When they had consulted her over the phone, she had sounded damn confident that she knew what was wrong with Dean. 

So they drove along one of Alton's brick streets, Dean cursing their effect on the Impala's tires, until they arrived at an old Victorian house that looked like it was on its last legs. It did, however, have a fresh coat of paint and unbroken windows, unlike the last time they had seen it, so Griselda was probably making good on her vow to restore it. 

They walked up the trim little path to the door and knocked. Dean hadn't changed into anything more decent, refusing even to pull a pair of jeans on for the visit. (It was seriously gross heat.) Sam was just glad Griselda wasn't the type of person to be impressed by appearances.

They didn't have to wait long for her, a middle-aged lady with long silver hair, herself barefoot and wearing a flannel shirt over a long paisley covered purple dress. 

“Come on in boys.” 

She led them to a crowded, tiny parlor, filled with furniture that looked like it had been there when the house was built, and mercifully had a window air conditioning unit. They sat down on one of the aging sofas and waited as she headed off again, to get them all drinks. 

“Told you you should've put on more clothes.” Sam said, smirking. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, then following Sam's gaze down to his chest. 

“You,” he said, pointing at Sam. “Seriously have no place ever calling me a pervert again.” 

Griselda was back with the drinks. “I bought beer when I heard you were coming. I'm not big on it myself”. She had what appeared to be a glass of mead for herself. 

She sat down. “I have to admit I was a bit excited when I heard about your spell. See, I knew the witch who created it personally...”

“I bet she was a real winner.” Dean sniped.

Griselda frowned. 

“She was, actually. She was a very talented and brilliant lady. That's not to say that she didn't have an unreasonable grudge against men, but... we all have our flaws.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam kicked him under the coffee table. 

“So, Griselda, there is a cure for the spell though?” he asked.

“There is.” she admitted. “But you won't like it.” 

“Just tell us lady.” Dean said, looking huffy at waiting for his cure.

“Well, you have to remember, Claudia was quite a misandrist....” she trailed off. “It's a blended dick.” she said abruptly, looking slightly flustered.

“What?” Sam and Dean both said.

“It has to be human, and freshly-cut from a living man... 

“Where's Mrs. Bobbitt when you need her, huh?” Dean said sourly. 

“And then it has to be finely diced and blended, along with a half a cup of strawberries and vanilla yogurt, and then drank when the moon is dark..” 

“Forget it, I'm not drinking some poor sap's freakin' penis.” 

“There is no other way, Dean.” 

“There's always another way.” 

“Well... there was one other thing she mentioned.” Griselda said, thoughtful. “She said, 'when a man has truly known a woman's life, and a woman's pain, the spell can no longer work on him'.”

“What did she mean by that?” Sam asked. 

“I really don't know.” she said.

“Think, was there anything she said to you, anything, that might have hinted at what she meant? Did any of the spell's other victims overcome it that way?”

“I rarely talked to her. She lived all the way down in Cairo. As for the others victims, as far as I know, a few used the blended-dick antidote; others just consigned themselves to living as a woman for part of their lives.” she said. “ 

“Thank you for your help, Griselda.” Sam told her. 

Dean was too pissed to say anything. They left, the muggy, hot hair hitting them like a solid force as they stepped outside and headed for the Impala. 

“I'm not drinking some guy's junk, so don't even suggest it.” Dean said, turning the key in the ignition.

Sam raised his hands up in an appeasing gesture. “I wasn't even thinking it.” he said. “But what are you planning on doing? Do you want to see if Cas can fix it again?” 

“Nah. If Cas could have fixed it, he would have the first time. I say we head down to Cairo. Someone there has to know more about the crazy bitch and her spell.” 

They headed back to the motel, planning on resting up and heading out during nightfall when the heat would be less.

* * *

They were barely in the room before Dean said “Come on Sam, let's do something about these cramps.” clapping his hands together briskly. 

“You mean...?” Sam asked, barely able to believe he could be so lucky. 

“The last time I sampled the local action here the girl tried to steal my wallet. And the time before that it burned when I peed afterwards. So no, I'm not going for any river rat action tonight, or ever.”

* * *

The motel's air-conditioner was broke. It made it miserably hot, the humidity so high that even sweating couldn't cool anyone down. Luckily, Sam had some serious distraction from it, in the manner of his brother's naked body pressed up against his. They were lying in the hotel bed, the first King-sized one they'd had in a while, on top of the sheets and the comforter, which was already developing a wet patch from the blood that was gathering between Dean's legs. It was oddly hot, bloody thighs and blood-soaked curly hairs, the odd black spot here and there, blood created with pain perhaps, but naturally, without violence or death. That was a very rare sight in Sam's life. 

Dean leaned in and kissed Sam, softly and just to get his attention, because he kept stopping to simply stare in dazed lust at Dean's body. 

“The eyes and the nipples are up here buddy. Being a chick has really taught me a new meaning to the word 'foreplay'” he joked, pulling Sam's large hands up to cover his breasts. 

Sam answered by lowering his head down and biting one of Dean's nipples, harder than most girls would put up with. 

“Jesus Christ!” Dean yelped, and kicked Sam in the knee. 

Despite that, the pain had sent a hot flash of pleasure down his groin. 

“Freakin' animal.” he muttered. He pushed Sam onto his back, glaring down at Sam's penis with an expression torn between disgust and awe. 

“You are really, really lucky I have a vagina right now, because I would never fit that thing up my asshole.” He told Sam, beginning to slide it back and forth between his legs, feeling the pleasure build. He still wasn't sold about the physics of this idea, even with a female body. No wonder so many of Sam's girlfriend's kicked the bucket. It was amazing they survived riding the monster cock once. 

While he was sure Sam wouldn't mind waiting a little longer to get to the good stuff, given the way he was moaning like a 50's housewife with her first 'neck massager' beneath him, Dean was eager to get the show on the road, before the cramps got so bad they rendered any sexual pleasure impossible. 

Blood dripped down the length of Sam's cock as Dean struggled to get the enormous head of it inside him. He knew he would loosen up even more as they went on and it would be easier. For now it was mostly painful, with the usual odd, unique pleasure that accompanied the right kind of hurt. 

He was going slow, agonizingly slow to Sam, who squirmed under him. Each time he lowered himself down he took a little bit more of the length in. He was a little over halfway down when the pleasure got away from him, and he clenched and spasm and plunged down all the way, being brought out of the orgasm by the serious pain that hit from the instinctive movement. 

After that the going was easier, and he was able to relax and devote his attention to tormenting Sam. It amused the hell out of him to use tricks he never would have on a girl or Cas, but which he was able to easily get away with with Sam because he was so damned determined to bang Dean. One of the more mundane things was making Sam stop mid-coitus so he could have a beer break.

It was during this break when Sam brought up a topic that Dean had barely given any thought to. 

“Hey, uh, don't you think we should maybe stop and put on a condom on?”

“Chicks can't get pregnant when they're on their period Sam. Geez, I knew Dad should've given you that talk about the birds and the bees, instead of leaving it up to that health class.” 

Sam would have protested such seriously dubious wisdom, but all rational thought was quickly leaving his brain, as Dean was climbing back on top of him again. 

Finally, Dean got tired of messing with his brother's head and drawing out what was now a pointless endeavor for him (three orgasms had to be enough to stave off the dreaded cramps for awhile) and set a pace that would end it. Sam yelled “Denice” at the end, which pissed Dean off to no end. He had to deal with the icky-oogy factor of nailing his brother, but Sam was pretending he was some chick named Denice the whole time? What a cop-out. He was so not repeating this experience. 

It wasn't till afterwards, when they got up to shower (they were both covered in a ridiculous amount of fluids) that they noticed Cas sitting in the armchair across the bed, thoughtful expression on his face and as cool as a cucumber even in a dress shirt, slacks, and trenchcoat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: ugh Piases are one of the creepiest things ever. I'm probably going to have nightmares after writing this. They are a real thing (well, not real as in real-creature, hopefully, but real as in they are an actual myth/legend. )
> 
> And yes, you can get pregnant while on your period. (Though I'm sure most of you know that, but it's surprising sometimes the things people don't know... it was only because of me mentioning it that one of my friends realized her medication was one that interfered with her birth control... a very important thing to know!)


	4. Never Knew How Much That Muddy Water Meant To Me

“There is something I probably should have told you.” Castiel said. 

Dean and Sam just stood there, naked, sweaty, and smeared with blood and semen, staring at him. 

“You can get pregnant in that form... if the spell is still on?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, it's off. I just decided I liked it so much I went in for a friggin' sex change!” 

“That doesn't seem like you.” Castiel remarked. 

Dean smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand, and counted to three. 

“The spell is still on.” 

“Ah. Well, technically, you're not pregnant yet, but it will happen.” 

“I'm not even going to ask how. Magic, biology, I don't give a crap.” Dean said. 

Sam however, had been thinking hard. 

“That's it!” he exclaimed. 

“What?”

“That must be what Griselda meant, about “a woman's pain”. What is the most painful thing that happens to most women? Childbirth.” Sam explained. 

“You're kidding me.” Dean said, but he looked intrigued. 

“Dean, you can't have a baby.”

“Shouldn't, probably, but I don't see us coming up with anything else to fix me, and I am so not living with these periods for the rest of my life. 

“Dean...”

“Not happening.” Dean replied, heading into the bathroom to use up all the hot water. When Sam moved to follow, he stuck his head back out. “Oh, and Sam, the whole joint-shower offer is revoked now. Cas, you're in.”

* * *

Sam sat outside in the hotel room's recliner, listening to the water run and watching the boring news channels. It was a big shower. They could totally have fit three. Not that he was really interested in seeing Cas naked, but it was the thought that counts, right? Sam was sad.

* * *

2 Days Pregnant. 

Later... Dean was lying on the bed, trying to watch the TV. Sam was trying to impede his concentration by continually going on about the pregnancy situation. Castiel was watching Dean.

“You know,” Dean said, stuffing more chips into his mouth. “ I should be weirded out by this, but it's kind of cool, having a kid.” 

“There's nothing “cool” about this, Dean. What kind of life is this kid going to have? We can't give up the life and go live in the 'burbs, not with you changing into a woman every week and then back.” 

“Oh come on! You're the one who said having this kid will remove the spell.”

“I _think_ it will remove it, but we don't know that for sure, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes and reached for a beer. 

“Plus you won't be able to drink during your pregnancy.”

“You're shitting me.” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe it's not such a great idea.”

He thought about it some. “You mean you really can't drink when you're pregnant? Not even beer? I thought it was just the hard stuff you have to lay off.” 

“No, you can't drink at all Dean.”

“Actually,” Castiel said, from his perch on the bed behind Dean, “Studies have failed to show that light drinking causes harm in pregnancies. So Dean can have his beer—in moderation.” 

“How do you know that?” Sam asked.

“It was on the TV.” Castiel pointed for emphasis.

Sam sighed, exasperated. “Look, there's enough of a chance this kid will have a birth defect, what with its parents being _siblings._

“Don't even start in on that. I didn't hear you saying anything about that two hours ago, when you were pounding me into the mattress. Besides, it only increases the chances of a birth defect by like, 8%, and that's less than chicks have when they decide to have kids after they're like, 35. And you don't see anyone getting all morality police on them.” 

“How do you know that?” Sam asked, again.

“I looked it up. You're not the only one who can do research, you know. There's a link to all the studies on sibling incest on that website of Becky's... what was that, morethanbrothers.net? Heh, who'd have known she'd be right?”

* * *

6 Months Pregnant.

Once the point of no return was reached...

“You know, you could always give it up for adoption. Then it could have a nice, normal life...”

“I am not giving up John Jr. Dad didn't give us up when he became a hunter, and chances are there would have been angels and demons knocking on our door anyway. Do you know how many things there out there that would love to get a hold of one of our kids, if we left them alone and defenseless?”

“That's a great reason not to have any in the first place.” Sam said.

“Says the guy who's always trying to shack up and play Norman Normal.” Dean said, snorting. 

“Why do you have such a bug up your ass over this anyway?” he continued. 

“You know what Dean? It doesn't matter. You're just going to do whatever you want, so there's no point talking about it.” Sam said.

He grabbed the keys off the nightstand and walked over to the door.

“Where're you going?” Dean called.

“Out.” Was all Sam said, before slamming the door and leaving. 

Dean just raised his eyebrows, took a sip of beer, and went back to perusing his copy of _What To Expect When You're Expecting_. 

He personally thought it was a very shitty move to leave the mother of your children alone when he was six months pregnant and there was a very evil Herecgunina on the loose. Not that he couldn't defend himself, but his back hurt, his knees hurt, and his ankles were killing him. He didn't even feel like he had feet anymore, just bruised lumps that barely cushioned his ankles from the harsh ground. 

And Sam was a selfish bastard who didn't like giving foot-rubs. Worst baby daddy ever.

* * *

9 Months Pregnant.

They were in the tiny town of Ponce de Leon, Missouri. It actually wasn't much of a town at all. Only a handful of people lived in the area, and only a handful of tourists ever came there. They were drawn there by the old mineral springs, which had been reported to have mysterious healing powers. 

It was a remote area, with few businesses to stop by, and so, fewer people to identify that a missing person had been through there, headed up to the hotsprings. 

In fact, the disappearances had never been linked to the town. It was simply noted that there were a lot of tourists going missing on their way to Branson. One thing they all had in common was that prior to their disappearance, they had all been spotted in various stores or eateries in Nixa, meaning that only Branson-bound tourists who were taking Highway 13 into Branson were being taken. 

The police were of the belief that the tourists had gone into Holland State Forest and gotten their damn fool selves lost. It wouldn't be the first time and it wouldn't be the last. They were still focused on searching the woods for them. 

The other thing being whispered was that someone (or _something_ , Dean and Sam automatically translated) was taking the tourists, preying on them along the route to Branson. 

If the tourists were legitimately lost—and that was doubtful, given that ten of them had gone missing in the last two months, and there was rarely more than one lost a year—then the cops and wildlife service would find them. 

If, as they suspected, it was something more, than they would find them. They started by searching through local lore—not dismissing the Ozark Howler, as so many did—but not jumping to the conclusion that that was it. 

It was during a routine check of Ponce de Leon (they would have had to be stupid to ignore a local place along the route that had magical properties supposedly attributed to it) that the worker in the sole convenience store let it slip that there'd been several people going up there lately. 

Upon questioning, it was further revealed that no, the poor terrified teenager had not seen them passing back through, either by stopping in at the gas station again or just driving by on the seldom-traveled road. 

They were on the trail.

Unfortunately, they didn't exactly know who—or what's—trail they were on. For all they knew it was some lunatic human hiding out by the springs ganking people, in which case it really wasn't their domain. Either way, it wasn't good to go into a fight unknowing. 

They cruised through the town slowly, scouting things out. It didn't take them long to find the mineral springs; there wasn't much else around. 

Sam was hesitant to let Dean come along on the hunt. He shot a glance over at his brother, who had his swollen belly arched out, rubbing the small of his back tiredly. 

“You know, Dean, maybe you should stay in that church while I check out the springs. I mean, you could pop at any second, and—“ 

“I'm not too pregnant to kick your ass.” Dean warned. 

Sam sighed. “Fine, Dean. Have it your way.”

“What are you, the Burger King?” 

Sam parked the Impala outside the cave. 

The sun shone brightly down on the two men as they slammed the Impala's heavy doors and headed inside.

* * *

Inside, a huge murky pool of strange, brownish orange water was visible. 

Sam cautiously approached the edge of it, kneeling down and trailing his finger over the water.

“It's warm.” Sam said. 

“Go ahead and take a bath if you want.” Dean joked. 

He was walking around, peering around the rocky crevices and alcoves. 

He saw something laying behind a stalagmite. He began to awkwardly lean over to pick it up, before a twinge in his back made him rethink that. 

“Hey Sam, come check this out.” 

Sam turned away from the mineral pool. 

“What is it?” he asked, walking over.

He had barely taken two steps away from the water when a large shining purple tentacle wrapped itself around his waist and yanked him down into the water. 

“Dean!” Sam hollered, before another cephalopod limb, this one the girth of a man's forearm and covered in little blue suction cups, attempted to shove itself down his throat. 

Dean was already in action, moving faster than any pregnant woman since the dawn of man had moved.  
In only seconds he had a machete out and was hacking at the overly-friendly tentacles. The water wasn't particularly deep, coming up only to Sam's waist and Dean's breasts. The tentacles began withdrawing back into the deeper part of the pool, apparently deciding to wait for easier prey, and Sam and Dean stumbled out of the water and back onto the cave floor. 

Sam could only rasp dryly for a few minutes, struggling to breathe, while Dean watched warily for the return of the tentacle beast.

“What was that thing?” he finally managed to ask. 

“Hell if I know. Pretty sure that was someone's Northface jacket over there behind that rock though.” Dean gestured toward the stalagmite. 

Sam headed over in the direction he pointed. Sure enough, he returned holding an expensive, bright-yellow jacket. A second of fishing through the pockets, and he had a wallet, and a Minnesota driver's license. 

“George M. Carlisle, 614 Beechwood Drive  
Windsor Mill, MN 21244 “. 

“Not from around here.” Dean remarked.

Sam searched around in his own pocket, coming up with a sopping-wet list of the missing victims. The pencil lines were faded but legible. 

“He's one of the missing tourists.” 

“Well, that's enough to sign a death warrant for Barney-with-Tentacles in my book.” Dean said. 

“Yeah, but how? We don't even know what it is, let alone how to kill it.”

“Look.” Dean grabbed the collar of of his thin white t-shirt and pulled the fabric outward. It was soaked, not just with murky brown water of the springs, but with a thick purple sludge. 

“You cut it, it bleeds.” 

Sam looked unconvinced. “I'd still like to do some research before I go wading in there after it.” 

The shadowed pool did look ominous. 

“Plus, that thing tastes disgusting.” he added, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue.

It was, Dean was amused to see, stained quite purple. 

“Alright.” Dean acquiesced. 

“Really?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I think my water broke and there is no way I am having my baby in here with Purple People Eater from hell lurking around.” 

“Damnit, Dean!” 

“Don't give me any I-told-you-so crap. Just get me to a hospital 'cause there is no way I am having a natural childbirth. I want lots of drugs.” 

Sam, still flustered and slightly pissed, hustled him to the Impala. 

The cussing that ensued when Dean refused to get in until many, many towels were laid down on the seat, could be heard even by the apprehensive purple monster lurking in the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mpreg: what a plot twist. Not :P I bet everyone saw that coming... Still, I apologize for skipping through 9 months of pregnancy in one chapter. That seems a little ridiculously speedy, even for me... 
> 
> Also, I apologize for the horrible lateness of this chapter. My hard drive failed on me and I had to replace it :O (good thing I back-up my fic folder, right?)


	5. Counting Flowers on the Wall

Dean was hunched over in pain, teeth gritted and hand on the Impala's dashboard, to keep from rattling around too much as Sam floored it to get to the hospital.

After it was all over, he really was going to have a long talk with Sam about the way he was treating his baby (both the actual fetus and the car). At this rate, he was half convinced the kid would just pop right out on the next bad bump in the road and land on the Impala's floorboard. But even he knew that that wasn't how it worked; oh, if it only it would be so easy. 

As the Impala jounced over the patchy back country blacktop once more, Dean punched Sam in the ribs as hard as he could. Sam yelped and the Impala swerved slightly. It wasn't THAT hard, Dean was in lady form, all clenched over in pain, and besides, he'd even used his left hand on that punch. 

It totally did not necessitate the wounded, betrayed look Sam gave him. “I'm just trying to get you to the hospital, Dean.” 

Oh, the guilt trip. Dean so did not need it now. The only one deserving of any guilt was the one who had put him in this situation: Sam. That's right. Sure, it might've taken two to tango, but Dean had had it with 50/50; he'd decided that pregnancy was now officially all the male's fault. They got away from it scot-free after all; pregnant women (or in this case, pregnant genderflipped males) paid for their share in the business 100% and then some. 

The “miracle of childbirth” was turning out to be a lot like the miracle of menstruation, only about a thousand times worse. 

The only light at the end of this awful tunnel was the possibility of regaining his awesome male body for good. But even that was dimming. Was occasionally living as a chick forever, forced to screw frantically for a week to keep the pain at bay, as bad as this one horrifically painful event? 

Probably not, he thought sourly. Unfortunately, it was way too late to change his mind at this point. 

At least they were on the main highway now, and the smooth pavement allowed for an extreme increase in speeding that Dean was now grateful for.

* * *

At the hospital, they were greeted by a familiar face at the registration window. 

Alice really was her real name, as evinced by the shiny golden nametag pinned to her cheerful bright pink scrubs. 

Alice, however, was anything but cheerful.

“I knew you weren't her brother.” she said, scowling. 

Sam and Dean just looked at each other.

“Sure, let's go with that.” Dean sniped. 

“What?” 

Dean ignored her.

“You handle the paperwork, Sammy. Then stay here.”

“What? For how long?” Sam asked.

“Till I'm done having this kid, obviously. Seriously man, it's bad enough you've seen me all fat and bloated and eating pickles dipped in ranch. If you get one look at me all constipated and split open, you'll never want to do me again. And if this doesn't work... well then I'm really gonna need you around, you know what I mean?” 

“Dean, that's ridiculous. It could be hours more before you're out. Just let me come back—“

“Nope.” Dean walked off, heading for the door where an orderly was waiting with a wheelchair. 

“Buddy, I can walk. Just show me the way.” Dean said. 

The man gave him a scandalized look and led him off.

When Sam moved to follow, Alice hopped out of the registration booth only slightly slower than a wendigo and blocked Sam from going in. 

“Uh-uh. You ain't going nowhere buster.” she said, putting her hands on her hips. 

“I'm the baby's father.” Sam explained, struggling to sound calm and non-threatening, when he was unbelievably pissed. 

“Yeah, and the baby's mother said she doesn't want you in there, and that's what counts. Don't make me call security.” Alice snapped. 

“Fine, whatever.” Sam snapped back, all attempts at manners abandoned. 

He stomped over to one of the cheap plastic chairs in the waiting room, and worked on filling out the paperwork with nonsense answers and lies, though he tried to keep it straight on family history and anything medically relevant. 

After he finished filling them out, and turned them in to Alice (who still genuinely looked like she wanted to murder him) he sat down again and watched the tiny television on the wall. He had no idea how he was going to manage to stay down here while Dean was up somewhere in the upper floors of the hospital, having his baby. He could not get his mind to settle down patiently on something else. It kept returning obsessively to Dean. 

He was on his third re-run of Captain Kangaroo, and imagining Dean bleeding to death in some awful, bleak hospital room, whispering “Sam” as the life left his eyes, when Cas leaned over into his space. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Sam responded by jumping back, startled, and accidentally slamming one large bony elbow into the poor elderly lady sleeping in the chair next to him.  
“Jesus Christ, Cas!” 

“I have claimed to be God, but never that particular aspect of him.” Castiel replied. 

“No I meant—nevermind. Have you seen Dean? How is he?” Sam demanded.

“The baby is born. You'll see him shortly enough. Head out to the Impala now, we'll meet you there.” Cas told him.

“Wait, but, how? I mean, he just had the baby. He can't be ready to leave yet.” 

Cas, in reply, simply disappeared. 

Sam sighed, stressed to the max, and left. It was a relief to be out of that hospital at least. He settled down in the driver's seat of the Impala, and waited.

* * *

Upstairs, a certain room on the OB floor was a madhouse. The cops had been called. Security was worriedly watching as a handsome young man in a hospital gown held them at bay, a gun in one hand and a nine pound baby boy in the other. The rest of the hospital was just now starting to lockdown. 

Luckily, human locked doors and sealed perimeters meant nothing to the might of an angel. 

A dark-haired man in a trenchcoat appeared in the room behind Dean, causing the poor security guard's eyes to practically bug out of their heads. They did not need some random hero-wannabe causing a newborn baby to be shot. 

Luckily, Cas was no wannabe-hero. He took hold of Dean and the new baby, and in a flash of light they were gone, appearing outside near the Impala. Castiel caught Dean as he stumbled, watching his hold on the baby carefully. 

Dean pulled open the door to the Impala. 

“Sam, what the hell? Get out of my seat.” Dean said.

Sam got out of the car, ready to fight the good fight, that a person not even an hour out of labor should not be driving, but he paused when he got a look at Dean. 

He was healthy, and being semi-naked, Sam could see that he was definitely now male. And that he had a very fine ass as a male; maybe he'd reconsider his stance on sex-with-male!Dean. 

“I'm a little under-the-influence right now from the painkillers (not that they did any good), but other than that, I'm good.” Dean explained, grinning. 

Sam hugged him, and by extension, their new son that was quiet and sleepy in Dean's arms. Dean slapped Sam on the back a few times, and then shoved him away.

“Come on , we gotta get a move on. The cops will be here soon.” 

“Cops?” Sam asked.

“Get in. I'll fill you in on the way out.” Dean said.

He handed the baby to Sam, muttering something about getting a car seat, and slid into the driver's seat. Cas folded himself into the backseat, and Sam took the passenger's seat, staring down in awe at the new baby while Dean started the car. 

It was such a tiny baby. He had light brown hair, which Sam hadn't expected. He had always pictured the baby with black hair for some reason, even though he knew enough about genetics to know it was unlikely, and that being named after its grandpa wasn't enough to make him take after him. 

They pulled out of the hospital at a sedate 30 miles an hour. No amount of police heat was enough to make Dean risk his child's health or safety. 

“We are so grabbing something to eat before we ditch this place. Having a baby really burns a lot of calories.” 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/n: Alice is sassy. And a bitch, but can you blame her? I'd be pissed if I had Dean as a lesbian lover and the next time I saw him, some random giant guy had knocked him up. 
> 
> Also, I know I mentioned there being a sixth chapter to this, but there really isn't. There WAS one, but then I decided to end the story differently so even though it's post-birth/this chapter, it's not actually congruent with this ending/storyline. Because I actually never intended to have the PMS!Dean fun end, but that really would be just too cruel to Dean. 
> 
> But the alternate ending/sixth chapter one-shot is on here, it's just posted as a oneshot called [Three Men and a Baby](http://archiveofourown.org/works/738197).

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ch.1 originally had a different, slightly longer ending


End file.
